Liberal Lady, lick up/lap down
the taste of freedom.
The trouble with gravy is how
it’s reapplied to the meat it was freed from.
Ride the boat, tried the train,
now the automobiles wheel below planes.
She can’t stop her mouth, and anyway
it all sounds the same
as “I tall!” her too
portentous claim
she cries while she climbs to our porch
raising up her bug-catching torch
while the barbecue cooks the meat
(yes, the same) that was delivered,
ground and hamburgled, to our feet
as if we were born here free only to receive,
never give.
March 27
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